Chapter 4 - Fisher

I’m drawn to her with a pull as natural as the moon’s tug on the tides, a connection that’s as bewildering as it is undeniable. I have no idea what the hell is going on, but there is no force strong enough on earth that could prevent me from bringing her home with me. No matter what it takes.

Now that we’re up close and her entire face is showing, I see that she has delicate, almost elfin features, but large, sensual eyes with full eyelashes and a strong nose—features I hadn”t noticed from across the room. After the way that stupid guard manhandled her, her face is already sporting a purple bruise on one cheek, and her chin is covered in a dribble of blood from her split lower lip. I grit my teeth, wishing I could do more to help her, but for now, the best thing I can do is secure a way out of this place.

The auctioneer is speaking on his phone a few steps away with “the man in charge.” He”s frowning and pacing, glancing at me every few seconds. It doesn”t sound like the deposit I gave him is going to be enough to prove that I”ll pay, so I prepare myself for a drawn-out bargaining session. Or maybe an outright fight if all else fails. Whatever it takes, I”m getting that girl out of here and to safety.

I need to think fast, to come up with something that will make them more amenable to my demands. I could drop Ram”s name. None of these men appear to be shifters, but they clearly know shifters, so they”ll know my alpha”s name if I use it. But that might simply bring additional complications. At the end of the day, I”m not positive I can come up with all the money, and the last thing I need is to cause trouble for the Stardust Hollow Pack.

The fact I”m in this mess at all is a pretty stupid mistake, made worse because it was a rash choice. I had no intention of buying a shifter, that part is true, but when I saw her on stage, something came over me, and before I knew it, I was offering a counter-bid. Adrenaline and desperation took over, so I went all in, throwing around big numbers with little concern for whether or not they were believable. The auctioneer was convinced, at least, but whatever the ”man in charge” is saying, it doesn”t look agreeable.

”I”m part of the Nightrunner Pack,” I blurt out. It”s the first thing that springs to mind.

Everyone who knows about shifters has heard of the Nightrunner Pack. They”re elusive and dangerous. One of the three most powerful shifter clans in existence, alongside the Stardust Hollow Pack and the Green River Clan. They tend to strike fear in the hearts of many shifters and non-shifters alike. Nobody knows where their headquarters are or who their alpha is. The few people who have met a member of that pack and survived aren”t willing to tell others what happened. We”ve heard a lot of rumors about them, and they”re not happy ones.

The lie comes out easily, but the ramifications of it stay in the pit of my stomach, stewing.

”The Nightrunners?” At the sound of my declaration, the auctioneer slides his phone into his pocket and rushes toward me, his body language suddenly as servile and solicitous as a used car salesman selling the last decade”s greatest sedan. ”Oh, sir, I had no idea we were dealing with someone so... high-profile.”

At the same time, the guards who had dragged the poor girl back and forth latch their fingers even tighter on her shoulders. They mutter unpleasantries in her ears, probably threatening her again. She gasps in pain and lets out a sad yelp. Her cry fills me with fresh anger, and I”ve never wanted to rip anybody”s head off as much as I do right this moment.

The announcer circles me with appraising eyes, noting the Italian leather shoes, the tailored, custom-fitted shirt, and the expensive watch slapped across my wrist. I may not be as done up as most of the men here, but that may work in my favor. Someone from the Nightrunners would want to stay discreet to avoid attention, and my casual, mid-thirties attire fits the profile. The announcer is likely an expert in detecting signs of a disguised or elite figure. That”s a useful skill in his line of business.

”What brings a man from that distinguished clan to our humble little gathering? We hope we didn”t offend with the cavalier manner in which we—”

”It”s no problem,” I interrupt with a dismissive flip of my hand, relieved by how easily the lie is sliding off my tongue. I point at the injured girl. ”I”ve got big plans for her.”

”Of course, of course. May we get you a glass of brandy while we tend to the paperwork and formalities, Mr...?”

”You... may call me Fin,” I improvise, hoping I”ll pass it off as some kind of alias or code name.

”And your surname?” the auctioneer asks.

”That is unimportant.”

He stutters and quickly adjusts course. ”Yes, of course. Well, please, have a seat. We”ll get you some refreshments, and in the meantime, my boy will take down all the necessary information. Would you like a receipt for the transaction?”

”No,” I say flatly. Just as bad as paying by card is leaving records at a place like this, unless one is suicidal. Even if I have no intention of keeping the girl captive, I don”t want my name anywhere near this. I can tell the announcer is eager to ingratiate himself with me and have me buy into his scummy setup, but I wouldn”t put it past him to send me a pricy bill later for every sip I take.

”No, you”re quite right. Forgive me. Quite right. You will, of course, wish to retain discretion.”

A spindly guy scrambles over to me, holding a large form and a feather quill. His eyes flicker to my face, but he visibly tenses when they lock on my chest where the first few buttons are undone, and I realize he”s staring at my tribal scar, the sole piece of body art that reveals my affiliation with Stardust Hollow. Sirens begin blaring inside my head. Caught in the act, I glance around wildly, but no one else seems to notice, including the scrawny dude and the auctioneer.

”What”s this?” I ask, scanning the paper.

”Just some minor details,” the auctioneer says. “We normally accept full payment upfront, and while we appreciate the monetary collateral you offered, we”ll need something a bit more substantial.”

I eye the parchment and the feather quill, then glance at the auctioneer. The man”s eyes are sharp and calculating, and there”s a predatory glint in them I don”t like. This isn”t going to be straightforward, I can tell. But I also know I can”t afford to show weakness. My earlier lie has given me a thin layer of leverage, and I need to maintain it.

”Minor details?” I echo, letting a bit of impatience creep into my tone. ”Be specific.”

The auctioneer clears his throat, pointing to one clause in particular. ”It”s a simple blood pact. It ensures that you”ll return with the full payment within thirty days. Failure to comply will result in... severe consequences.”

I look at the contract and then back at him, a wry smile tugging at my lips. ”Severe consequences? You mean like late fees or repossession?”

The man”s face tightens. ”More like death, Mr.... Fin.”

A chill sweeps through me, but I can”t let it show. A blood pact is no joke, and failure to pay up, whether from stupidity or misfortune, is an instant death sentence. But I”m already in too deep, and there”s no turning back now.

”Fine,” I say, snatching the quill from the scrawny man”s hand. I slash my palm with a swift cut, letting a few drops of blood stain the contract before I sign it. My blood sizzles as it touches the paper, sealing the pact. The auctioneer”s eyes gleam with satisfaction.

”As for the payment,” he continues, rolling up the parchment, ”it needs to be in our account within the next thirty days.”

”I understand,” I reply, clenching my fist to stop the bleeding. ”Now, about the girl...”

”Yes, yes.” He rolls the paper into a tight coil and stuffs it in his breast pocket. ”We can begin the ceremony anytime you”re ready.”

”Ceremony?” I question, arching a brow. I”d hoped that once I signed the contract, I”d be able to remove the girl and get the hell out of here, but I see now that he expects something more. They”re as concerned with appearances and formalities here as they are with the sale. ”What exactly do you mean?”

”Your new bride-to-be is a great prize. Is it not customary for you to claim her on the altar of the auction house after purchasing?” The question is posed with an air of gentle query, but I”ve lived long enough to know when someone is testing me. If I”m truly a part of this world, then I should know what”s coming and accept it without objection. ”An ancient rite, if you will.”

“Is that legal?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow in question. “The marriage, I mean. Will it be binding?”

“Of course, of course. I’m an officiant, after all. We’ll sign the license and file it on your behalf once we’re done here.” He pulls out a sheet of paper, a marriage contract, presses it against the wall and signs before holding out the pen for me to take.

I stare at it for a moment, considering the implications. “Won’t she need to sign it as well?”

”If she were a human, certainly. But our great country’s laws don’t cover paranormal species, now do they?”

He has a point. The existence of shifters still isn’t widely known, and I suspect even when the day comes when everyone knows about us, it’ll be some time before the laws catch up to include us. Still, the idea of getting married has never really appealed to me. I’ve watched too many marriages fail and witnessed the difficulties it brings within the pack. That said, these are traditional circumstances. This female doesn’t belong to my pack, and worst case scenario, we can get this thing annulled once we’re out of here. As long as I can spirit her away from the confines of this place, I”m willing to go along with anything. So, I take the pen he’s offering, and sign my last name away.

With a jubilant laugh, the announcer gestures for someone to bring the girl forward. Despite the consequences of her previous struggles, she fights against the hands pushing her toward the front. She stomps and stumbles before being shoved out of the tent and back toward the building where the auction was held.

”Right this way, Mr. Fin,” the announcer says, waving me in the same direction. With his head held high, his slimy smile affixed firmly in place, and his dress shoes clicking along the waxed floor inside, he looks like a gangster strutting out of a 1920s speakeasy.

Led by one of the guards, we walk down a narrow hallway and back to the stage, where they gesture for us to step up. From where I”m standing, Elizabeth Dane is so close I could reach out and touch her. Our skin is just millimeters apart, and I feel an overwhelming urge to wrap an arm around her and pull her closer, though that may result in a kick to the shin, given our current situation. It feels wrong for this girl who looks frightened to be standing opposite of me, like I”ve betrayed her somehow. But I”ll fix that as soon as I get her the hell out of here. I swear on my life.

She has so far managed not to look at me, staring blankly at the ground in defeat, but I notice her eye twitch slightly and know she”s fighting not to cast her gaze my way. Her beautiful breasts rise and fall with her every shallow breath, and her delicate shoulders tremble.

People have started to gather around the stage, and the announcer takes his place at the head, smiling and gesticulating dramatically, welcoming those present and thanking them for sharing in this special moment.

”Welcome back, gentlemen, and thank you for sticking around. While our auctions have concluded for the night, tonight has been a lucky day for one fine gentleman in our audience. This one is not to be missed, and if it”s romance you”re after, look no further, amigos. Right now, we”re going to have a front-row seat to the beautiful union of these two souls. So, please feel free to finish your brandies and toast in celebration. Fin and Elizabeth are to be wed!”

I freeze, my heart pounding. A marriage? Onstage? This just keeps getting worse. I steal a glance at the girl, but her reaction is no less disconcerting. In fact, she looks even more horrified, if that”s possible.

The guards grip her tighter, forcing her to her knees at the center of the stage. The crowd erupts into cheers and hoots, their anticipation palpable.

”Come now, Mr. Fin,” the announcer prods, gesturing for me to join them on stage. ”Don”t be shy. It”s tradition!”

Every fiber of my being screams to refuse, to rebel against this twisted ritual. But I can”t. Not if I want to get Elizabeth out of here alive. With a deep breath, I step onto the stage and keep my eyes locked on hers. I kneel beside her, ignoring the announcer”s insistent chatter.

”Do you, Mr. Fin of the Nightrunner Pack, take this woman as your rightful prize, to cherish and protect, to keep safe and secure, as long as you both shall live?”

The words are like venom, burning my ears, but I nod. ”I do.”

The announcer turns to Elizabeth. ”And do you, Elizabeth, take Mr. Fin as your husband, to obey and serve, to stand by his side, forsaking all others?”

She whimpers under the force of the fingers digging into her shoulders, tears sliding down her cheeks. My heart lurches. Every drop of blood in my veins is screaming for me to get her out of there and leave no one but a trail of bodies behind me, but the rational part of me knows that would result in a firefight, and surely, one or both of us would be killed.

”Absolutely fucking not!” she shouts, anger clouding her expression. Her rebellion catches me off-guard.

”Oh, that”s no good, sweetheart,” the auctioneer remarks, addressing me as if no one is listening. ”But I suppose it”s a good thing we don”t need your blessing in this case. Some women like to fight this sort of thing at first, but in the end, they can”t resist the thrill of that passion and dominance. You”ll thank us later.”

I nearly vomit. The auctioneer winks at me and then turns back to the audience, flourishing the feather quill. ”By the power vested in me, I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

With a raucous cheer, the guards motion for us to step aside and go ahead.

The audience starts to press forward as if they”re at a rock concert and want to tear the stage to pieces. Someone calls out, ”Do the deed! That”s what we”re here to see!”

My stomach twists in revulsion. I stagger to my feet and grab Elizabeth’s hands, dragging her to stand. All the while, she looks dazed. I gently cradle her chin and gaze into her soft, silver eyes, wiping the tears that have fallen.

”Don”t worry, Liz,” I whisper, close to her ear. ”I”m not going to hurt you. I”m going to—”

The announcer slaps me hard across the back and interrupts, ”Get to the good stuff, you can talk it up later. Don”t make your new wife wait, son. She has a lovely rack, doesn”t she? Is it natural or artificial? They sure felt real to me. You”ll have to let us know, hey, guys?”

I swing around, shielding her from their view. Fury fills my vision, and I will my wolf not to show himself. I can feel him surging beneath the surface, and I can”t risk attacking and giving myself away.

“Not on my life,” I say to him. “That”ll be a closely guarded secret of mine and mine alone.”

The auctioneer chuckles. ”C”mon, boys. Let”s give the happy couple some privacy.”

He heads out the opposite door, leaving Elizabeth and I as the only two left on the stage. As the sound of footsteps, clapping, and jeering die out, a pregnant silence creeps in. But I”m not here to muck around, and as pleasant as Elizabeth’s scent might be, I need to focus.